Why Smoke Detectors Are Dangerous.

NOT how I wanted to wake up.  I tried for a while to tune it out.  I tried to invent some interesting story to go along with all the infernal bleeping and blooping in the hope that perhaps I'd fall back asleep and the noise would just work itself into my dream.  It wasn't happenin'.  No, the beeping of a smoke detector is a special kind of beeping.  It seeps into your very bone marrow and crawls up your spine.  It rattles your teeth.  It  eats your soul.  There was only one thing to do.  I had to destroy the smoke detector.

I stumbled into the hallway to destroy the smoke detector.  Then it occurred to me that I could just remove the battery and go back to bed.  Seemed reasonable.

In my not yet awake haze, I actually stood there for a minute trying to figure out how the hell the damned thing was beeping with no battery.  Then there it was again.  The fucking beeping.

I literally looked everywhere I could think of, but to no avail.  My failure to pay attention when our landlord told us we had two smoke detectors had turned into Marco Fucking Polo, and FYI, that's a cruel game when you have hearing issues and can't ever determine where a sound is coming from.  After, no joke, half an hour of looking for the second smoke detector, I decided to try a new tactic.  So I headed to the kitchen to start drinking large quantities of rum with the intention of getting so drunk that I could no longer hear.  And there it was.

Fuck.  I had located the enemy, but I was at least a foot too short to reach the bastard.  I would have to get creative.

Fail.

Fail.

Fail.  And a headache.

This wasn't working out so well.  I needed equipment.  I decided to build a highly advanced, technologically brilliant piece of machinery to assist me in reaching the smoke detector.

Unfortunately, my highly advanced, technologically brilliant piece of machinery didn't have opposable thumbs, so while I got the smoke detector open, I couldn't pluck the battery from the casing.  I proceeded to do what any logical builder of a highly advanced, technologically brilliant piece of machinery would do.

Exhausted and defeated, I slumped into a chair at the kitchen table.  Wait.  Chair.  Standing on a chair would make me taller.  WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF THAT?!  Actually self, you just did.  Oh.  Yes, the smoke detector had driven me to arguing with myself.  But back to the chair.  When we bought our dining set, I wanted chairs tall enough that we could also use them to sit at the kitchen counter.  Even though we never do that.  Ever.  Now I was faced with a new problem--how to get my short shit self standing on the chair.

Fail.

Fail.  And I broke a fingernail.

Once again, I would need to build a highly advanced, technologically brilliant piece of machinery.

WIN!!!!!!!  I grabbed that battery, snatched it out of the smoke detector, and threw my arms in the air and cheered my victory.  Probably should've gotten down first, though.

Next time, I'll gloat on the ground.